Why, oh why, did I eat that dashed plate of cakes at Tessa’s?
“Could we draw the drapes?” she asked fretfully.
“No.” His firm reply startled her. “You’re not to hide yourself from me.”
Her breath puffed through her lips as his long-fingered hands circled her wrists, pulling her hands to her sides. Her cheeks grew hotter as his gaze settled on her breasts, which jiggled inelegantly with each rise and fall, the engorged peaks nearly the same vulgar shade as her hair.
“You’re lovely, Gabriella,” he said. “And you’re mine.”
She couldn’t look away from the possession smoldering in his eyes. She trembled as his touch coursed down her throat, the slope of her shoulder, her upper arm. When the backs of his fingers brushed the jutting curve of her breast, she reacted with instinctive modesty, her arms crossing over her bosom.
“What did I say about hiding yourself?” he inquired.
Tension crackled in the space between them. This strange, magnetic attraction had been there from the moment they met. That she’d been drawn to Adam was no surprise, but the fact thathehad felt a reciprocal pull never ceased to amaze her. Over time, this sensual charge had grown even more intense…to the point where just being in the same room as him could make her feel as if she’d touched an electrifying machine.
The thought of the unknown dangers he would be facing tonight only amplified her feelings. Fear and desire made her blood rush. She felt as if she might burst out of her skin with worry and wanting and love.
“You said not to,” she said over her fiercely thudding heart. “Hide myself, I mean.”
“Then be a good wife and put your hands on the bedpost behind you.”
Her limbs moved to obey his quiet command. As her fingers gripped the thick, carved pole, heady anticipation enveloped her. She didn’t understand this strange new game they were playing. Yet she was in his thrall, the heated approval in his sultan’s eyes turning her thoughts to ashes.
“How pleasing you are,” he murmured.
For once, she was bereft of words. The touch of his lips on her collarbone dissolved her capacity for speech altogether. His kiss followed that delicate slant to her throat, his tongue sweeping over her throbbing pulse. Gabby tightened her grip on the pole, the position thrusting her breasts forward, and she moaned when he cupped the rounded mounds in his elegant hands, nuzzling the deep crevice between. The budded tips strained for his attention, yet he did not touch them with his fingers or lips.
“Please, Adam.” The words left her in a gasp.
He lifted his head. “Please what, my dear?”
“You know,” she said shyly.
She knew he did. After all, he attended to her there during every Wednesday night visit.
“I’d like for you to tell me.”
She blinked at the novel and altogether scandalous command. “I can’t say italoud.”
His hard, sensual mouth slowly curved. Gilded by the afternoon light, her husband was even more attractive—more dangerously virile. She couldn’t conceal anything from his keen gaze, and she had the distinct feeling that he liked that. She felt as if he were leading her through a new dance…and she didn’t know the steps.
Yet she trusted Adam. He led flawlessly and had never, not once, let her fall. In his arms, she’d found the safety she’d always craved.
“We’ve been married for eight years,” he murmured. “Surely you’ve no secrets left to hide?”
“I don’t have any secrets,” she said with quivering honesty.
Wickedness glinted in his eyes. “Then tell me what you want.”
She bit her lip, her fingers curling around the ridged wood. Could she do that? Now that he’d planted the idea in her head, impulsive words bubbled in her throat.
Desperately, she tried to keep them corked. “You’ll think me wanton.”
“I hope you’re right.” His gaze turned even more carnal. “Tell me, Gabriella.”
“I’d like you to kiss me…on my breasts,” she said faintly.
Could one die of mortification? How would he react to her shockingly forward request?
